


The Five First Kisses of Severus Snape

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Heterosexual Sex, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-27
Updated: 2008-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Severus Snape’s lips tell their own stories about the man.





	The Five First Kisses of Severus Snape

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

_I hope I never forget my past, the days  
when I was but a babe in my Mother’s arms  
I wish to hear her sweet lullaby again,  
the song of love, she sung while I was in my cradle  
In my sleep, I was at perfect peace  
The stars watched over me completely  
In my mother’s arms, life was heaven  
My troubled heart, how it longs for the cradle’s peace_ (1)   
  
  
Severus had only seen his mother cry once. He was four years old and his father, who was in an especially violent drunken rage, had hit him hard across the face. The strike hurt; his cheek and lips had stung for days after, but Severus didn’t cry—it only made matters worse because Father hated sniveling. It was a surprise that his mother, usually strong and brave, had been the one to shed the tears for him.  
  
He had rushed to his mother's side and hugged her, a move that was instinctual rather than learned. He wanted to take away the hurt he saw in his mother’s face in ways that weren’t afforded to him when he spilled his food or messed up his clothes. He wanted to rub her back and utter words of encouragement, even _kiss_ her if he could get close enough.  
  
She pushed him away gently, acting as if she didn't need his comfort. She wiped her cheeks, put on a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and told him to go and ready his parchment and quill and prepare for his next writing lesson.  
  
He scurried to the small cot he occupied in his parents' bedroom and pulled out the thin sheaf of parchment he hid beneath his mattress. The quill and inkpot he retrieved from near the head of the cot. His face lit up in excitement. Last week, he had perfected writing “Severus Snape,” and he thought maybe it was time to learn how to write, “Mum,”' or, “Magic.”  
  
He never saw his mother cry again. Not when his father gave her a beating, not when his father gave him a beating. Sometimes, he thought he heard sniffs and sobs when it was dark and his father hadn't come home, but his mother always had her back to his cot and he had no way to tell for sure.  
  
\--  
  
He had only one friend growing up—Lily Evans from six streets away. All the Muggle children in his neighborhood liked to laugh and throw stones at him, but Lily never did those sorts of things. She was only kind and helpful, and she had magic, too.  
  
They would play with leaves and twigs, making them dance and change color, or even fly. Sometimes, Lily would just plop on the ground and start asking him questions about magic—if there were other children like them, if there were old people like them, if flying cars existed—and he would answer all of them to the best of his abilities. Sometimes Lily asked hard questions, like that one time when she asked if they could ever give her mean sister Petunia some of their magic. For questions like these, Severus would only shrug and give a well-rehearsed answer.  
  
“We’d have to wait ‘til we get to Hogwarts to find out.”  
  
The day he got his Hogwarts letter, he gave his mother a huge grin and nearly shouted with joy. He ran to his and Lily’s secret hiding place as fast as his short, skinny legs would allow him, and broke out in a huge smile when he saw that Lily was already there, her own letter in her hand.  
  
\--  
  
On the day of his departure for Hogwarts, Severus and his mother hitched a ride with Lily's parents going to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Mr. and Mrs. Evans sat up front with Petunia, while his mother, Lily, and he sat at the back. He'd never been on a Muggle car before, but that wasn't what made his palms sweaty, and his heart race. There would be lots more Wizarding children on the platform; would they mind him and Lily? He looked down on his clothes; his mother had cleaned his best clothes thoroughly for this day, but they still looked odd to him. They were still baggy and mismatched and yellowed and ugly. He had taken a bath this morning but his hair was still stringy.   
  
What if the other children didn't like him? What if they liked Lily, but hated him? They’d probably love Lily—she was so pretty and her hair was so bright and clean. Then they would take Lily away but he wouldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t let them take his Lily—  
  
"Stop fidgeting Sev, you're making it worse!" Lily reprimanded in her small, girl's voice.  
  
"I'm not fidgeting!"  
  
"Yes, you are! And you're fidget's not an excited fidget like mine." She leaned in for a whisper, "Are you scared, Sev? Didn’t you tell me that there's no need to be scared, and that all the Wizarding kids would like us because we could do magic, too?"  
  
"I'm not scared! Lily, could you shush please? And stop talking like a five year old, it doesn’t fit you. Let's just wait 'til we get there."  
  
When they got to the train station, his mother showed the Evanses how to get through to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Lily's parents were shocked when they passed easily through solid stone, and truly delighted when they saw the big shiny train that would take their child to Hogwarts.  
  
Lily was jumping up and down, just like a stupid five-year old, Severus thought. Her eyes were bright as she pointed at the other children dragging trunks and owls in cages, like she'd never seen so much magic before, because she really hadn't, ever. Caught up in looking at his best friend, his only friend, he felt a tug on his shoulder. It was his mother.  
  
"Severus." Her voice was soft and low, like it always was, but the look in her eyes was different. They were darker than usual, sharp, but not glassy like they often looked after one of his father’s snits.  
  
"Yes, Mother?"  
  
"Severus, you take care of yourself, okay? And Lily, of course."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Study well. Get top marks if you can."  
  
"I'll do my best for you, Mother. Especially in Potions. I know how you love that subject."  
  
"Learn to love it yourself, Severus."  
  
"I will. Mother, please take care of yourself when I’m away. Sometimes… sometimes I worry about you."  
  
"You shouldn't worry about me. I can take care of myself."  
  
"I just hope you do. I'll miss you."  
  
"I'll miss you as well. Watch out for yourself in Slytherin House, son."  
  
He didn't understand his mother’s words, so he just nodded. He heard the train give its warning signal, and saw Lily waving for him to get onto the train. But before he could follow and drag his trunk to a train entrance, his mother pulled him back and crouched so she was face to face with him.  
  
There weren’t many opportunities to be this close to his mother, so Severus studied her face. She looked so much older than her thirty years, with fine lines around her eyes and her mouth. Severus knew by then that he mostly looked like his father, with a hooked nose, a long face, and a high forehead, but looking at his mother that day showed him their similarities. He realized that he had inherited his mother's deep, sad eyes, pallid skin, thin lips and stringy hair. Realizing this, he suddenly loved himself a bit more.  
  
His mother looked at him intently, as if memorizing his face. Then she did something completely alien to him. She held his face in her hands, stroked his cheek, and brought her lips to his forehead. Chuckling to herself, she kissed the tip of his long nose as well.  
  
Then, she brushed her lips against his.  
  
"Take care. You're so very big now and not a little boy anymore. Don't forget to write to your old mother."  
  
Severus couldn't find the words to reply; a lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. The train’s shrill whistle reminded him he had to leave, so he nodded and bowed to her instead.  
  
She laughed. It was a good sound to hear, Severus thought.  
  
He climbed into the train right after Lily, thinking he could conquer the world. He forgot about his stringy hair and odd clothes, and that all his belongings fit in one small, second-hand trunk. Even obnoxious fellow first-years in their train compartment couldn't ruin his good mood.  
  
His mother had kissed him.  
  
  
  
 _I was a child and she was a child,  
In this kingdom by the sea;  
But we loved with a love that was more than love-  
I and my Annabel Lee;  
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  
Coveted her and me.  
  
And this was the reason that, long ago,  
In this kingdom by the sea,  
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling  
My beautiful Annabel Lee;  
So that her highborn kinsman came  
And bore her away from me_ (2)   
  
  
James Potter had everything he didn’t, and Severus knew that this was exactly the reason he hated the other boy more than anyone else he’d ever met. He’d catch a glimpse of the other boy carousing with his friends or soaring in the air on his broom, and Severus would _always_ get a violent feeling in his gut and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was envious of Potter, and Severus resented himself for feeling it—the feeling was weak and unbecoming—but he wasn’t one for denial and saw his problem for what it was.  
  
Potter was popular, good at Quidditch, and handsome, if the girls were to be believed. Severus would begrudgingly concede to himself, and himself alone, that Potter, who was not plagued with a large, hooked nose, pallid skin, and greasy, stringy hair, looked better than him. The Gryffindor was also rich, and his money bought clean clothes that suited him.  
  
In Sirius Black's case, Severus took comfort in the fact that the boy also had a wretched family who despised him. This could not be said for Potter, who had a complete set of loving, pureblood parents. Potter even had the gall to be intelligent and Head Boy.   
  
Severus absolutely _hated_ Potter's perfection.   
  
And seven years after Severus first encountered the brat on the Hogwarts Express, he'd found one more thing to hate about Potter, and above all else this reason tore him up inside.  
  
Now, Potter even had Lily.   
  
\--  
  
A dull chill seeped into his veins as he waited for Lily to finish her patrol. The gloom was unmistakably brought about by his idle thoughts, which he admonished himself to keep in check. They were about Lily and Potter—he’d heard they'd gotten together earlier in the week, but the sight of them kissing by the lake had chilled his heart and almost killed him.   
  
The revelation couldn't have come at a worse time, Severus thought. He had finally mustered enough courage to apologize to Lily for his actions starting fifth year because he truly missed her friendship. He really didn’t think he’d done anything wrong by calling her a mudblood. After all, she _was_ one. And he thought it was perfectly acceptable to spend time with Avery and Mulciber because he needed to have allies in Slytherin. However, to get back into her good graces, Severus believed these were things she didn’t have to know.  
  
This was his final year in Hogwarts, and he was resolute that he wanted to spend it with his best friend—his only real friend. He wanted to spend it with Lily, just the two of them, but now that meant he’d have to pry her away from Potter. That boy’s claim on Lily, whatever it was based on, made him lose his ability to think straight. It made him furious.  
  
The sound of familiar footsteps brought him back to the present. They were Lily's—he’d recognize that sound anywhere. Lily always ended her patrols in this obscure hallway just west of the entrance to Gryffindor tower, and that was why Severus opted to wait for her here.   
  
"I heard from the grapevine you're Potter's girl now," said Severus, faking nonchalance as Lily passed his spot. He had trapped his hands between his back and the cold castle walls because he was afraid that if they were free to move, he'd have caressed Lily's hair already.  
  
Red hair whipped around violently. "What are you doing here?" Lily bit out, clearly surprised. He saw her expression harden, and pretended that the hate radiating from her did not make him flinch in pain.  
  
Severus' heart stopped a beat. He realized he didn't actually _know_ what he wanted to do or say to Lily, just that he wanted to be here with her.   
  
"I just came to extend my congratulations," was his safe reply.  
  
"Oh come _on_. If you've got nothing better than that, then shove off."   
  
“I will not _shove off_ , Evans. Not for you or anyone else.”  
  
“Then I suppose I should be the one to go. Have a pleasant night, _Snape_.” Lily turned to go, her back stiffer than usual, and her chin raised an inch higher than could be comfortable.   
  
Severus wouldn’t be brushed aside that easily, that was not part of his plan, whatever that plan was. He would have it out with Lily, thrash Potter in the process, and convince her that her place was by his side, as it had always been. So he grabbed her arm, plucked her wand away, and roughly pulled her to him. Their combined weights sent them crashing back into the wall in a jumble of arms and legs.  
  
He steadied himself against the rough stone of the castle and tightened his arms around her, crushing her back to his chest. For a brief moment he relished the feeling of having her pressed this close to him. Lily felt soft but _solid_ in his arms, and her hair smelled like rosewater. It was heavenly, the feeling of having her in his arms–although she squirmed too much.  
  
“Let me go, you—let the hell go!” Lily screamed and kicked and flailed. She stilled when she realized she had lost her wand to him in the scuffle.  
  
People mistakenly thought Severus was a weakling just because he despised Quidditch and chose to spend his time with his potions. They didn’t know he had gained physical strength from hours of scrubbing the floors of Spinners End, hanging sodden laundry to dry every other day, and hauling a drunken father from his mother nightly, even before he had turned twelve. Severus had no interest in correcting people’s mistaken ideas about him, either. He let them think what they wanted so he could sneer at their shocked faces when they realized the truth.  
  
Lily knew this, like Lily knew everything about him. But still, Severus tightened his grip.   
  
“What do you want from me?” Lily’s voice was low like a whisper, but it was not defeated.  
  
“A dangerous question to ask. But for now, let me say that I—” Severus dropped his head and inhaled a whiff of Lily’s shampoo, “want to continue a bit more in this position. You in my arms. Me smelling your hair.”  
  
This scenario was definitely only something that existed in the peripheries of his imagination—using brute force to make Lily understand. It was too boorish, too Gryffindor-esque. He’d rather use reason, cunning, maybe even blackmail to get her to forgive him for that incident in fifth year.  
  
“You’re sick, you know—”  
  
Maybe not reason then, not even blackmail. And since Lily was a Gryffindor, Severus thought maybe Gryffindor tactics would lend themselves better to his cause.  
  
He buried his face in her hair, tightened his grip on her a bit more, and murmured in her ear. “Let’s start from the beginning. I heard that you and Potter are now a couple. Is this correct?”  
  
Lily’s breathing hitched as she nodded.  
  
“Was it the two of you I saw kissing by the Lake yesterday afternoon?”  
  
She didn’t respond, but her silence was answer enough for Severus, who spun her around and slammed her into the castle wall.  
  
Severus winced when he heard Lily groan and saw her shut her eyes in pain. But he would not be deterred. She had to see his point, the truth for what it was, and she had to agree.  
  
By now he was pinning her against the wall with his body, his hands gripping her arms above her head. “I honestly thought you were smart enough to not be affected by Potter’s fame, Lily. I’m very disappointed— _look at me when I’m talking to you_!”  
  
Lily opened her eyes, defiant, sharp green meeting black.  
  
“Explain yourself, Lily. He’s been bugging you since fourth year, and you hated it, _hated_ it. Now you’re cavorting with the bastard! Explain so I understand!”  
  
Her green eyes were cold. “You arrogant fucker! I’ve nothing to explain to you, remember? We’re not even friends anymore! Let me go this instant or I’ll scream bloody murder and have Dumbledore expel you!” Lily tried in vain to free herself of him. She tried to wrest his hands from her wrists and knee him in the groin, but that only led to her scraping her skin on the rough walls, and discovering something that was not supposed to be between the two of them.  
  
“Bloody perv! So you get hard when you pin women to walls, you Death Eater? Get off me!”  
  
A blush warmed Severus’ cheek and he ducked his head so it wouldn’t be evident to his captive.  
  
“Get off me, you wanker!”  
  
“Has Potter gotten this far with you, Lily?” Severus said with gritted teeth as he ground his erection into her belly. He looked up at Lily, whose face was deceptively calm. “Has he frotted against you and brought himself off in his pants? I bet he has. I bet you let him do it just now during your rounds.”  
  
Lily’s face turned red. Severus liked it.  
  
“Have you let him fuck you yet? Oh I do so hope not because—”  
  
Lily spit on his face.  
  
“You filthy mudblood!”   
  
Severus kissed her. It was an angry and messy kiss, with Lily’s saliva dripping down from his nose where it had landed, to his mouth which was trying to bruise hers. He was trying to make her open her mouth so he could snake his tongue in, but there was no getting past her lips which were clenched tight and angry.  
  
“Open the fuck up! You let Potter in, you should let me in as well. Nearly a decade of utter devotion to you and all I get is this?”  
  
Severus wanted to own her—he would take her mouth if he could not get to her heart. What had Potter done to deserve her? The boy had teased her for years! Potter shouldn’t have her! Potter didn’t know her like he did. Severus knew her best—certainly not in the genteel sense of _knowing_ , but he knew her scent, her sounds, her mannerisms, her dreams.  
  
Why would she let Potter, and not him, enjoy the taste of her mouth?  
  
In his frustration, he bit down hard on Lily’s lower lip. This made her groan in pain, giving Severus just enough space to sneak his tongue into her mouth. It was a big mistake.   
  
Lily bit his tongue with enough force she drew blood. Severus howled in pain, let her go, and staggered backwards. Freed, Lily swung a hand down on his face. Severus fell to the ground clutching his swollen tongue and cheek. Lily took this opportunity to grab her wand from his pocket.   
  
She cast an extra strong Petrificus Totalus on him.  
  
“You stay away from me, you hear that? I hate what you’ve become," Lily said, voice breaking and tears blurring her bright, green eyes. "You were _never_ my friend, and I was never yours. I regret the day I ever met you.”  
  
Slumped on the floor and bound with magic, Severus could only watch Lily as she ran to Gryffindor tower. The castle echoes were unforgiving; he could hear her footsteps, and her sobs, for endless minutes after he lost sight of her form.  
  
Severus was never able to rid himself of that memory.  
  
  
  
  
 _Neither the heart cut by a piece of glass  
in a wasteland of thorns   
nor the atrocious waters seen in the corners  
of certain houses, waters like eyelids and eyes  
can capture your waist in my hands  
when my heart lifts its oaks  
towards your unbreakable thread of snow.  
  
Over your breasts of motionless current,  
over your legs of firmness and water,  
over the permanence and the pride  
of your naked hair_ (3)  
  
  
The first time Narcissa Malfoy propositioned him, Severus Snape hid his shock with a sneer. He was at Malfoy Manor on Voldemort’s orders to check up on Lucius’ wife—to make sure that that she hadn’t switched sides due to her husband’s incarceration and Draco’s, “mission.” Narcissa had handed him a glass of firewhiskey after assuring him that, no, she had no plans of joining Dumbledore’s group of merry men and women.  
  
She only waited for him to finish the glass before bringing up her proposal.  
  
“Think of it as payment, Severus. For the Unbreakable Vow, and for watching over Draco,” she said coolly.   
  
Severus was not deceived. He knew Narcissa was a wreck behind her icy exterior—she had been, ever since her husband was taken by the Ministry, and had crumbled even more when Voldemort handed Draco the impossible mission of killing Albus Dumbledore.  
  
He pitied her, actually. She was a victim of circumstance, dragged into this mess of a war because of her husband’s megalomania. But Severus was not a polite man.  
  
“Surely you don’t think of yourself that highly.” He sneered. “That you would see a few hours in your bed of equal weight as the risk of my life.”  
  
Narcissa’s hasty departure was the only acknowledgment of his scathing remark.  
  
\--  
  
Severus didn’t take Narcissa’s offer seriously, though he let it cross his mind during his rare idle moments. How would it feel, he thought, to have the graceful body of Lucius Malfoy’s wife under his? What would her luminous skin taste like? When he was a skinny runt in his fourth year at Hogwarts, he’d been dared to steal a kiss from the youngest Black sister who was in her third year. The closest he got was half an arm’s length before she pushed him away roughly and turned up her nose at him.  
  
\--  
  
Like a true Slytherin, Narcissa did not simply give up. However, the second time she propositioned Severus, she was less direct about it. What was lost from directness, however, was added to sarcasm.  
  
“May I ask you a question, _Severus_? Several questions, actually. How long has it been since you’ve been with a woman? Do you miss it? Or am I asking the wrong set of questions?” Here, Narcissa paused for effect.   
  
“Do you prefer _men_?”  
  
Severus smiled inwardly. He’d been expecting that particular jibe to come out sooner or later, seeing as his asexual lifestyle was a stark contrast to the regular Death Eater’s.  
  
But he decided to humor the woman just a little bit.  
  
“Why, Mrs. Malfoy, do you think the only reason I refused your offer is because I’d rather have your husband?” _Or your son_? Severus left that part out, _too cruel_ , he thought. He cocked an eyebrow at the lady of Malfoy Manor.  
  
Narcissa smiled, genuinely enjoying the banter. “Unfortunately, my husband is indisposed at the moment. Would you like me to make arrangements with other men? I’m sure we could find plenty who’d be willing.”  
  
Severus chuckled. The woman had some nerve, but he, of course, expected nothing less from a former Black.  
  
“Narcissa,” he drawled, “be a Gryffindor for a moment and just tell me why you want me so desperately in your bed.”  
  
The woman’s indrawn breath was deep, obviously for quelling strong emotion—perhaps fear, or even embarrassment.   
  
“Because of the Unbreakable Vow. Because you’re keeping an eye on my son,” she said automatically. Severus was unmoved.  
  
In a wavering voice, she continued. “Because Blacks are never in debt—for long that is.”  
  
The last revelation surprised Severus, which irritated him, because he knew he should have seen it coming. It was all about pride for the old pureblood families, after all. and there were none older and _“purer”_ than the Blacks, not even the Malfoys. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel for someone like Narcissa, to owe so much from a half-blood like himself.  
  
“But you’re a Malfoy now,” was all he was able to say. He quickly strode out of the Manor’s parlor, dark robes billowing behind him.  
  
\--  
  
Severus saw himself as a simple man with simple tastes. The double life he'd had to live was complicated enough, thank you very much. So whenever Severus touched himself, it was simply for release, not for elaborate pleasure, as some others did. He would lean his greasy head on his pillows, lower his pants, free his cock, and wrap his hands around it. A few firm tugs and a blank mind—wanking was one of the few times he had few thoughts, fake or otherwise—were key. In a few moments he would be spilling onto his hand and his belly, spelling away his wasted seed, tucking his cock back into his pants, and falling asleep.  
  
Thus, it bothered Severus when one time, while he had his fingers around his cock, his mind wandered lazily to smooth, pale skin like silk, soft fingers, light-coloured eyes, a feminine voice, and waist-length hair. His left hand, which usually lay unused during times like these, had come up to cup his balls and roll them around and increase his pleasure.   
  
That time, his orgasm was more intense than usual, and it bothered him. His only comforting thought was at least, he was sure his fantasy had bright red hair, not platinum blonde.  
  
\--  
  
The third time Narcissa propositioned Severus was the only time he would admit he was actually surprised.  
  
He had just finished supervising Potter's detention and was fuming at the irony that his notes, _his_ Potions notes, benefited that boy and indirectly caused Draco's near death the previous week. Of all Potter's sins, he felt this to be the worst, and pledged to make the boy suffer for it.  
  
After undoing his wards, he pushed open the door of his chambers with all his might and slammed it closed with a bang.   
  
He was abruptly stopped by the sight that greeted him. Narcissa Malfoy was kneeling on his bed, head bowed, and naked save for her long blonde hair.  
  
“Come to bed, Severus, _please_ ,” she whispered.   
  
Severus took a shuddering breath. “How did you get past the wards?”  
  
Narcissa kept her head slightly bowed, but looked up at him, long lashes shadowing her eyes. “I had help from a house elf.”  
  
“And why are you here?”  
  
At this, Narcissa's back straightened, and her head rose so she could look at him in the eye. “To thank you, however I can, for saving my son's life again, and for doing all you can to make sure that he stays alive.”  
  
Severus stood his ground.  
  
“And it's been so long since I've been with a man. I miss the pleasure.” Her voice held a sly challenge.  
  
By then, Severus had made his decision. He shrugged off his robes and took the few remaining steps to his bed. He climbed behind Narcissa, who had stayed on her knees facing the door. He trailed the bony fingers of one hand down her pale back, and up again.   
  
Narcissa responded to every stroke with a sweet sigh or a moan; but a choked groan escaped her lips when he turned her around to face him.  
  
Severus looked into her pale blue eyes, but did not attempt to search her mind. She looked back and did not break eye contact even as she unbuttoned his shirt and removed the rest of his clothing.  
  
He tasted her skin that night, and took her twice. Both times he enjoyed, even if Narcissa sighed Lucius' name whenever she orgasmed.  
  
He did not mind. After all, it was a fair trade, because only his spy's training prevented him from crying out _“Lily,”_ as he peaked.  
  
\--  
  
Like everything else he did—teaching Potions, brewing potions, spying, and making Potter's life miserable, Severus Snape fucked with thoroughness, precision, and persistence. He would make sure Narcissa enjoyed their encounters, whether by using his hands or his mouth, or his cock on her sex. Severus made sure he enjoyed everything, too. It was the first time he had taken and done something for himself.  
  
But Narcissa still called Lucius' name in climax. And he still thought of Lily.   
  
\--  
  
One night, he entered his chambers in one of “his snits,” as Narcissa called them. He and the Headmaster had gotten into another intense argument, after the old man had insisted on another task for him. Severus had done so much for Albus Dumbledore, and would do so much more if needed, but this latest order he wanted to refuse.   
  
She was already waiting on his bed when he arrived, wearing an old rose negligee she knew he admired on her. Perhaps she had sensed that he was more troubled than usual, because she took the lead that night. Narcissa let him lie on his back as she stroked his skin and used her tongue on his scars and secret places. She took him to the edge of ecstasy, and then stopped, only so she could take him there once more.  
  
Narcissa straddled him. It was their first time in this position, but Severus did not mind because it took him deeper into her than he had ever been inside another human being. Her hands were on his chest, one caressed the hair that grew there, while the other toyed and pinched at a nipple as she rocked slowly and firmly against him. Her eyes were open and intently focused on his.  
  
One of his hands rested on her slender waist, the other stroked her front—flicking her sensitive bud, smoothing over her lean stomach, cupping a breast, tweaking a nipple. She sighed and closed her eyes whenever he moved to a new destination.  
  
His eyes lost focus as Narcissa took him deeper, but hers were open, gazing at him with what could be interpreted as affection. Maybe this was the reason why with a heartfelt groan, Severus cupped her face with both hands and brought her down for a kiss.  
  
This was their first kiss, and it was strangely comforting to Severus. Her mouth tasted sweet and elegant, if a bit bitter from firewhisky. He loved it. Her lips were soft and pliant against his as her tongue branded a mark on his own.  
  
Narcissa's hands slid to his neck and hair to pull his mouth even closer to hers. Severus realized she was rocking faster and harder, and that it would not take long until she climaxed. Only a short moment later, her walls clenched around him and milked his cock of his own release.  
  
In a daze, she whispered his name against his lips.  
  
He thought of hers.  
  
  
  
  
 _Do not go gentle into that good night,  
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;   
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.  
  
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright   
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,   
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.  
  
And you, my father, there on the sad height,   
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.   
Do not go gentle into that good night.   
Rage, rage against the dying of the light._ (4)   
  
  
The firewhisky was bitter and burned its way down Severus's throat but it could not replace the dull weight that had settled there three hours before. He'd never been one for blatant sentimentality, not even with—he gulped down some more of the alcohol—not even with Lily. But this, coupled with his inevitable decline in his old age, brought ears to his eyes.  
  
"Damn you, Albus," he muttered, before flinging the glass against the far wall of his chambers. It shattered and small shards clinked on the ground.   
  
A walk around the castle sounded relaxing. He needed that.  
  
\--   
  
The problem with the situation, Severus pondered as he strode along the castle halls, wasn't an _inability_ to do what was necessary. The problem was that he had been left with no choice. Everything—from the task's timetable, to its manner of execution, to its cast of characters had been preordained by someone other than him.  
  
It rankled him because Slytherins always had a choice. _Always_.  
  
Severus took the steps two at a time, causing him to reach the top of the tower in no time at all. He'd been hoping to encounter snogging couples whom he could scare away, but they were elsewhere tonight, leaving him alone under the night sky with his heavy thoughts and the soft breeze.  
  
Albus wanted to die soon. Albus wanted Severus to kill him. To save Draco.  
  
The details of the plan had been cemented shortly after Christmas, when it had been apparent that Draco would find a way to fulfill part of his task of killing the Headmaster. Albus had argued for this alternative, because he said it would be best for everyone if he died by a friend’s hand.  
  
The Headmaster had summoned him to Hogwarts during the summer, and he’d seen the old man with a dying left hand, and heard him speak of conjectures on the Dark Lord’s designs for the future. Apparently, the Headmaster had been cursed to a slow and painful death by a dark artifact, and nothing Severus could brew or conjure could reverse the situation.   
  
Death by a friend’s hand. It was like Albus saying he believed Severus had failed— at stopping Draco, at finding a cure.  
  
He had tried, he had. And the trying part lasted a couple of months into the school term. But there was truly nothing he could do apart from taking away the pain from the curse, and calming the periodic seizures that would shake the Headmaster’s body terribly. He was also able to project the relative date of Albus’ death—sometime before the next school term started—and that gave them barely enough time to ensure that Potter understood just how slim his chances were of obliterating the Dark Lord.  
  
Apart from knowing that he could do nothing about the Headmaster’s death, Severus simply loathed that it was for Potter. The boy just had to have everything—fame and glory, special treatment, the close friendship and mentorship of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had. He was just like his father, a privileged brat through and through, and this time, the younger Potter and his cause wanted Severus to kill Albus Dumbledore.  
  
\--  
  
When he’d first become friends with Lily, her family fascinated him as mush as she did. Why did her parents have brown hair and she had red and her mean sister had blonde? Why did their house have lots of flowers outside? What were her parents always laughing about? How did they survive without magic? Why was it okay with Lily’s parent’s that she had magic and they had none?  
  
Severus loved to play in their back yard and watch Mr Evans tinker with their car in the garage. Mr Evans was a cheerful man who worked for a bank and liked to whistle and hum a lot. Severus would ask Lily all kinds of things about her father—what he liked to do after work, if he helped out around the house, if he ever wanted to have a son. Lily would answer his questions sometimes, but would mostly dismiss them and drag him to the park so they could get on the swings and talk more about magic.  
  
He never hid it—he’d always wanted a father. A proper one, who’d talk to him and teach him things and tell him the secrets of men. The father in his mind didn’t necessarily have to have magic. He just had to be not drunk, thus his fascination with Mr. Evans, and in later years, even Lucius’ father.  
  
And if he were to be honest with himself, his longing for a father explained a lot of his loyalty to Albus.  
  
\--  
  
Severus did not mind the chill from the breeze that blew atop the Astronomy Tower. After all, it was congruent to the thoughts running through his head. He would have to end the life of the man who had given him a chance at life when his youthful folly caused the death of his love, and nearly his own. He would have to end the life of the man who mentored him for seventeen years, who he knew, _he just knew_ , loved him in his own way.  
  
And it was all for Potter’s cause! Wasn’t it enough that Lily had died saving that boy? Did Albus have to die too? That wretched brat really ought to count his blessings. So many people and things had already been sacrificed for the precious Harry Potter—Lily, for one, and now Albus.  
  
If he loved the Headmaster any less, Severus would have backed out of the task. But the events of that afternoon proved he loved Albus enough to—in addition to lying, killing and dying for the man—kill the man himself.  
  
\--  
  
He’d come to the Headmaster’s office to deliver a batch of pain-relieving draught he brewed, expecting Albus to greet him with an offer of sweets or some such rot. What he encountered wrenched his heart from his chest through his throat.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was crouched in a corner of his office, shaking in pain or fear, it was hard to distinguish. The greatest wizard in recent history, defeater of Grindelwald, best Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen had been reduced to a quivering mess by a dark curse on his hand, and it brought tears to Severus’s eyes.  
  
Severus could only join Albus on the floor, knowing that the draught he had made, like the ones he had brought before, would do little to calm the old man. Severus wrapped his arms around the Headmaster; instinct told him that this would work better than any calming draught, restorative potion or mind-altering substance.   
  
It worked. In his arms, the Headmaster stopped shaking and his breath evened out. Severus closed his eyes and relished the moment’s peace, only opening them when he felt the old man stirring. Albus had grasped with his healthy hand, one of Severus’ own.  
  
“Things are going to be just fine, Severus—son.” the Headmaster whispered, as he dropped a light kiss on the back of the younger man’s hand.  
  
Severus could only close his eyes again, wrap his arms tighter around Albus, and place a tender kiss on the old man’s head.   
  
Both the father and the son had tears in their eyes that afternoon.  
  
  
  
 _  
A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape’s throat.  
  
“Take… it… Take… it…”  
  
Something more than blood was leaking from Snape. Silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, it gushed from his mouth and his ears and his eyes, and Harry knew what it was, but did not know what to do—  
  
A flask, conjured from thin air, was thrust into his shaking hands by Hermione. Harry lifted the silvery substance into it with his wand. When the flask was full to the brim, and Snape looked as though there was no blood left in him, his grip on Harry’s robes slackened.  
  
“Look… at… me…” he whispered.  
  
The green eyes found the black…_ (5)  
  
  
It was the height of his shame to have the Potter boy know about his love for Lily, but it had to be done. Memories had to be turned over, secrets revealed. Although, he really should be pleased that he would prove the brat wrong—he wasn’t “evil” in the way he was expected to be. Vindictive, yes, but not a crazy murderer’s right hand man.   
  
With seconds left in his life, however, he could only hope that the boy did the right thing with his memories.   
  
But, Severus decided, Potter needn’t know about that one lazy afternoon by the Lake where he had learned just why his heart beat fastest when he was with Lily. That memory would be his alone.  
  
It had been the second of September during their fourth year— four months before he learned of his mother’s death and father’s arrest by the Muggle police, seven months before he fell into the good graces of Avery and Mulciber and the rest of the lot, and a year before he lost the love of his life.  
  
\--  
  
He wasn’t someone who noticed the way the tall grass swayed to the breeze, or how the clouds obscured the worst part of the sunshine. Severus missed details like these—the color of the small flowers dotting the lakeside, the smell of the early autumn air, the song the birds in the trees chirped out.   
  
But Severus’ eye noticed the luster of Lily’s red hair, which complemented the fallen leaves perfectly, and Severus spotted the fading freckles on Lily’s cheek, and the twinkle in her eyes as she twirled around before plopping down on the grass. Her laughter was a twinkling bell. Her light scent, of rosewater. He only had to see her, and everything would be inconsequential.  
  
“Come join me down here, Sev.” He chanced a glance at Lily, who was already sprawled on the ground amidst the few fallen leaves. She was beautiful.  
  
“I missed Hogwarts so much. It was nice to be with Mum and Dad and Tuney, even if she was nothing but a right pain, but Hogwarts is just—”  
  
“It’s home,” he filled in for her, as he gingerly sat on the ground. “It’s my home.”  
  
Lily rolled to face him, silently prompting him to continue.  
  
“Stop rolling around on the ground, you’re getting filthy,” he ordered without any real strength.   
  
Lily only rolled around some more, and even grabbed a handful of leaves to throw at him. “You’re such a stick in the mud, Severus Snape!” she said in between giggles.  
  
Lily sobered up when she noticed his scowl deepen even more. She sat up and shifted nearer to her best friend.  
  
“Are they still arguing?”  
  
He snorted. “If only they were simply arguing,” Severus drew in a deep breath before continuing. “It’s worse than ever, Lily.”  
  
She tugged him into an embrace, but he remained stiff in her arms. “It’s going to be all right, Sev. When we finish Hogwarts, you’d get some great job because you’re amazing at Potions and Transfigurations, and you can take your mother away from Spinner’s End and the two of you would never have to see that man again.”  
  
“I swear to Merlin I wouldn’t need magic to kill him the next time he tries to lay a hand on her,” he muttered to Lily’s hair, voice eerily calm and even.  
  
“Severus, don’t talk like that,” she pleaded.   
  
He didn’t make a promise, but stayed still in her arms. Moments like these with Lily almost made him forget about his broken mother and the man in their house who had made her that way. Moments like these with Lily, when he had her close and knew that she was his and he was hers, lightened his heart and almost convinced him that there was sense in having hope for the future.  
  
“Do you want me to tell you about my summer?”  
  
Severus nodded as she slowly disentangled from their embrace. Lily knew him like the back of her hand; she knew that during these times he just needed to be distracted.  
  
“Well, the moment we got to the house from King’s Cross, Tuney just stomped up into her room and didn’t talk to me. It was pretty much like that the rest of the summer. But there was this one time when I managed to talk her into a game of cards, like the ones I taught you. It was grand—”  
  
He really wasn’t listening to the dull stories of her unfortunate Muggle relations, although he should have, as her friend. It was so much more fascinating to watch her hands fly about and her face scrunch up into millions of expressions as she told her tales. Lily had so much happiness and life in her it overflowed to him—small wonder that he always wanted to be around this girl.  
  
“—and the beetles, they turned purple! Petunia was able to do magic!” Severus nodded, still a bit entranced with the shape of her eyebrows.  
  
“I knew you weren’t listening! And you honestly call yourself my friend! Lily plopped down on the grass once more.  
  
He sighed. How would he be able to explain it to her? That he liked to stare at her face—and her body, which had begun to grow curves in the best places—even if he did appreciate her for her mind and her heart?  
  
“You’re such a boy!”  
  
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smirked half-heartedly.  
  
“It wasn’t meant as one, you know.” Lily pulled him down beside her. “But I understand if you can’t make space for my ramblings right now. It’s tough what you’re going through. I wish I could help.”  
  
 _How could she not know_? “Lily, you’re already helping.”  
  
“Pfft. I’m only distracting you, what’s the help in that?” She turned over and slumped half on top of him, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
Severus shrugged, as much as he could while lying on a bed of leaves and bearing Lily’s weight on his chest. He appreciated this physical intimacy between them, even if it drove him batty with—he wasn’t sure what it was. His heart warmed when he was with Lily, but during times like these, his groin stirred as well. It was truly, very confusing, and all he could do was shift to a position that ensured that Lily wouldn’t come in contact with his half-formed erection.  
  
“Sometimes I just need to not think about it. You always complain how brooding I get.”  
  
“True. I guess it does help that I distract you. But I’d like to help more.”  
  
Lily stared at him with such an earnest expression he just had to close his eyes. No wonder he hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor. There wasn’t an ounce of courage in his skinny body, or else he would have kissed Lily by now. He could have even done something about that man in that house.  
  
Severus kept his eyes closed and breathed in the Hogwarts air. One day, he told himself, he would be brave enough to ask Lily to be more than friends. One day, he would—  
  
The feel of something soft and slightly wet on his lips surprised him so much that his eyes flew open and he almost scrambled backwards. But Lily didn’t let him. She laid her palms flat on his chest, keeping him on the ground, and continued kissing him, just small pecks on his lips, nothing complicated.  
  
It was marvelous.  
  
He forced his eyes open and saw that Lily’s were slightly open as well. She was even more beautiful up close, even if her forehead was crinkled in concentration. Her lashes were dark, and her cheeks were flushed. But the best part of it all was the feeling of her breath entering his mouth every time she exhaled into their kiss.  
  
It was perfect.  
  
Mostly because it was her idea, Severus thought, once Lily had, unfortunately, stopped kissing him and returned to lying on his chest. It meant she really wanted to kiss him, and not just had to endure an inexperienced overture from his end. Perhaps there was wisdom in him being not brave enough. Lily was enough a Gryffindor for both of them.  
  
There wasn’t much to remember after that. Severus failed to remember how Lily laughed all of a sudden and flicked his nose just to annoy him. He didn’t remember that they talked about Slughorn for the better part of an hour. He didn’t much remember that she skipped gaily back to the castle that afternoon.   
  
But he remembered the kiss.  
  
\--  
  
He remembered the kiss the second after he called her a mudblood, when he begged her to forgive him, when she said _no_.  
  
He remembered the kiss when she married James Potter, when he heard she was pregnant, when he learned of her death.  
  
He remembered the kiss the first day he saw her son, who had her beautiful, bottle-green eyes.  
  
He remembered the kiss when he killed Albus Dumbledore.  
  
He remembered the kiss each moment he needed to cast his Patronus. It was the best memory of his life, when Lily kissed him, and with this memory, he calmly faced his death.  
  
  
  
  
Fin

  
  
(1) From the Philippine lullaby _Sa Ugoy ng Duyan_. Words by Levi Celerio, music by Lucio San Pedro. Translation, mine.  
(2) From _Annabel Lee_ by Edgar Allan Poe.  
(3) From _Sonata_ by Pablo Neruda.  
(4) From _Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night_ by Dylan Thomas.  
(5) From _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ by J.K. Rowling.


End file.
